The Still of the Night
by Bridlin
Summary: One shot, post Still. A bit of Caskett nonsense. 'Castle.' Kate puts her mouth to his ear and he licks his lips in anticipation. Their fingers are entwined and she has taken hold of his forearm with her other hand.


'Castle.' Kate puts her mouth to his ear and he licks his lips in anticipation. Their fingers are entwined and she has taken hold of his forearm with her other hand. They can't stop touching each other. Since the moment that she stepped off the bomb into his waiting arms they have had to keep contact. Reaffirming that they're still here. Except for those brief moments before Gates told her to kiss him. And he thinks it's just as well that the Captain did know because he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from touching. So, with her lips to his ear he wonders what she's going to suggest.

'Feed me.'

He turns his head to look at her.

'I'm starving.'

He smiles and lets go of her for a few seconds so that they can take off their vests and hand them to Ryan and then he has her again and they are walking to the diner around the corner. It's long past breakfast or lunch but it's a fine time for an early dinner of steak and fries, mac and cheese, or maybe a burger - because she loves a burger.

They don't look back so they don't see Gates, Esposito and Ryan watching them. All three smiling as he disentangles their arms to pull her to him and kiss the side of her head.

She goes for a burger. He loves that she enjoys eating and he loves to watch her eat. Always. But especially today. He orders steak and fries and she eats most of his fries and a bit of his steak. Because she likes to taste what he's ordered and he loves that too. And because the adrenaline has made her ravenous. That and missing breakfast and lunch.

When they're done, she stands up and her knees give way but he's got her. Her muscles refuse to work but he's there to catch her. Always. And she leans on him, letting him take the strain as they wait for a cab. There's no embarrassment. He does it for her; she'd do the same for him.

* * *

'Really, Castle? Are we really still doing this?'

Kate drops onto the couch, tucking her legs under her. She's wearing the feather soft white bathrobe he bought for her because as adorable as she looks in his, it could wrap around her at least twice. This one fits nicely and he can find his way inside much more easily. But he's not touching yet. Now he's content just to look. Her skin is flushed from her bath and her damp hair is already beginning to curl. He marvels that she's here and not… But he can't think about that. So, he hands her a glass of wine, her second. The first he gave her while she'd relaxed in the bath he'd drawn for her. All the hours he has spent just watching her today haven't been enough and he'd sat in the bathroom and gazed as she closed her eyes and sank under the bubbles, stretching out her aching legs, slowly lowering her shoulders into the healing hot water, relieving the tension of hours spent standing still. He can feel her radiating heat as he sits beside her on the couch, sipping his single malt because tonight wine isn't enough.

'We don't have to. All you have to do is admit that you had feelings for me first…'

'You are delusional!'

'_I'm_ delusional? Excuse me…'

'In so many ways, Castle, in so many ways. You drove me insane for years.

'Not for years.'

'Yes, years. You still drive me insane.'

'Really?'

'Okay. I admit that at some point when you were driving me crazy…'

'With desire.'

'No! Just crazy. At some point I might have noticed that you were quite cute.'

'Cute? Puppies are cute. Cuddly toys are cute. I'm irresistible.'

She leans across to lightly kiss the corner of his mouth. 'Now you're irresistible but then I could resist. I did resist.'

'So, you admit that you had to resist my irresistibility.' He looks triumphant.

'No. God, you really do drive my crazy sometimes.' She sighs and takes a slurp of wine.

'Ah, then if I drive you crazy now and you love me…' He pauses, leaning his head to one side to look at her, the corners of his mouth creeping up and the skin round his eyes crinkling and she smiles back. The wide smile that lights up her face and that makes the pulse in his neck throb and forget what he was saying and remember something else and he's off on a different track.

'The bank robbery! After the explosion when you found us. That was the first time you looked at me just like you're looking at me now and if my mother hadn't interrupted…'

She rolls her eyes. 'So you think that's when I started having feelings…, other sorts of feelings for you?'

'No, of course not. It's just your smile, that perfect smile. But it was long before that. When I went to the Hamptons with Gina…'

'Even though you'd asked me to go with you.' She shuffles away, putting some space between them and he reaches out to hold her knee.

'But you decided to go away with Demming instead.'

'And I changed my mind and you'd already given up.'

'I'd retired hurt.' He tugs on the robe exposing her smooth golden knee.

'But by then you liked me enough to ask me to the Hamptons.' She raises a speculative brow at him and he drops his chin and narrows his eyes.

'And you liked me enough to accept, albeit too late.'

'Albeit? Who says albeit?'

'Dickens, Austen, me.' She smiles and he tugs her robe again and she edges back, closer than before so that he can feel her heat transfer from her to him.

'But you'd liked me before that.' She looks up at him through her lashes and he knows that she's won. She'll always win.

'Yeah, I liked you long before that.'

She kisses his cheek. 'Me too.'

She slips her arm through his and takes possession of his arm again as she rests her head on his shoulder. He closes his eyes, dropping his cheek against her drying curls, breathing in the citrus scent of her bath.

'And now you like me enough to risk your own life…'

'Shhh!'

'Thank you, Castle.'

'Always, Beckett. You know that.'

They stay like that and her head gets heavier on his shoulder and the red wine starts to angle down towards her robe so he takes the glass from her hand and puts it on the table beside his empty one. Her grip on his arm loosens and her long, thin fingers drop reminding him of when they almost froze to death together. He cradles her head in his hand and lowers it on to his lap, stroking her hair.

When he wakes his hand is resting on her chestnut waves. Her breathing is deep and regular and her hand is lying on his thigh. He rolls his head from left to right and right to left, loosening the stiffness that has settled as he's slept. Carefully, he raises her head so he can shimmy out like a limbo dancer, grateful for the cushion that drops as he stands up so he can rest her head on it. She moans and pulls the cushion towards her and he hopes that she's missing him. He stands and watches the rise and fall of her shoulder and listens to the little snuffles of her breath. He marvels that she – they – are still breathing before he scoops her up in his arms to carry her to bed. She turns towards him and snuggles into his body without any sign of rousing. He contrives to fit her under the sheet, unwrapping her from the bathrobe as he does it so that she can sleep unencumbered. As her body hits the cool sheets she instantly pulls her legs tight to her chest and clutches the pillow. He keeps his eyes on her as he strips off and curls himself around her body, allowing himself to imagine for just a brief moment what might have happened today. He's not ready to die but he knows he can't live without her so leaving her alone was never an option.

* * *

It's 4am. Kate has no idea how long she's been asleep. Castle must have carried her to bed. Not the first time and, she smiles to herself, not the last. She's aware of the familiar sensation of him at her back. Some part of him is almost always in contact with her when she wakes but tonight he's coiled around her, cocooning her with his own body. Her muscles are tight and she needs to stretch. She twists on to her back and extends her legs. He stirs and she feels his bicep flex and the arm draped over her tightens possessively. She rests her hand on his forearm and looks at him. His head is sharing her pillow and he's too close for her to see properly so she wriggles enough to free her other arm and gently eases to the side so she has a view of his face. He calls her extraordinary but he's extraordinary. No ordinary man would have risked his life – been prepared to die – to stay with her. And she understands because she knows she wouldn't have left him if their roles were reversed.

Who fell for whom first? It doesn't matter. She can't pinpoint when she started to love him and struggles to remember when she didn't. She kisses her fingers and presses them lightly to his cheek. When he wakes she'll kiss his lips and she'll tell him that she's worked out which is the best kiss. It's the next one. Always.


End file.
